


Paint Splatters Across this Stone Heart; Will it Thaw?

by CheetahLeopard2



Series: Gifts and also what I'm doing instead of working on my others [11]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe- Painters, Alternate Universe-freeform, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 18:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8459041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheetahLeopard2/pseuds/CheetahLeopard2
Summary: This is a painters AU I'll continue if requested. Wakatoshi sees a battle and paints it. Yeah. IT'S ALMOST 2k FOR THAT IDK HOW I DID IT





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a school assignment as well ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ enjoy! Tumblr~https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cheetahleopard [please come talk to me? <3]

Wakatoshi was riding through a small, nondescript town when it happened. He had chosen to try a new trade route. As an artist, he didn’t find many towns where there was no mainstream supplier of his trade. He had split for the Shiratorizawa group, consisting of Taichi, Kenjirou, Tsutomu, Satori, Eita and Ohira, for a few weeks to find and map the new route out.This town wasn’t one of his stops, he’s just passing on to the next town over. This is more of a small village, honestly. Which is why the sudden screams and the acrid scent of smoke surprised him. The calm April air had been overtaken by the yells of soldiers bearing torches, touched to the new grass so it curled and disappeared into the rapidly growing cloud of horrible smelling smog. 

This is only a warning, for next the screams of fear fade into battle cries and first blood splatters, deceptively pretty, in a slow arc to the ground.

It was an utter massacre. The villagers had no chance. 

Wakatoshi continues to the next town over with a frown on his face. He knows he could not have saved the village by himself, and to do so would have been a large risk that would likely end with him being killed. And yet he felt as though he has to do something about it. 

Resting and not tidying up or otherwise stimulating his mind gives it too much time to wander. Try as he might, Wakatoshi can not help his thoughts turning back to the cries and blood of the townspeople in their valiant but useless attempt to keep their land.

_ But the battle has already been fought. The people are already dead. What could I do now? _

Wakatoshi turns over and tells himself to sleep, he needs his sleep. 

The morning sun shows the fruitlessness of his efforts. Heaving a sigh as he sits up, Wakatoshi resolves that although he did not sleep he will not waste any of the day. He is concerned for his health if this persists, and he can almost hear Taichi rolling his eyes and murmuring “Dad.” but that would be ridiculous, Tachi is not here.

Taking stock of the supplies in his wagon, Wakatoshi wonders how much some new paints would cost. He is relieved to find that he will not need any new brushes, as it is nearing the end of season for good materials to be harvested, and most good ones would likely already have been bought. The town he is in is Karasuno, and Wakatoshi has come here specially for the paints often. Carefully pocketing some of his money, Wakatoshi begins his walk to Suga’s paint supply store, which has feeds from most paint makers as well as Suga making the best silver paint across the country. Each paint maker has a specialty color, and really talented ones have a color that they can vary the tone of.

Wakatoshi often paints realistic scenes, and is fond of Tooru’s masterful greens and blues. Today, though, he finds himself impulsively grabbing one of the reds of the aspiring maker Tobio. Tobio seems to be specializing in reds, oranges, and blues.  _ Odd, he used to be only blues.  _ Wakatoshi reflects,  _ Maybe it has something to do with that small orange-headed painter he’s been traveling with lately. _

Wakatoshi shrugs it off and heads to the front to pay, although still unsure of why he grabbed the paint.

“Hello again Ushijima-san. How’ve you been?” Koushi is as nice as ever, soft smile lighting up the shop.

“I am faring well, thank you Sugawara-san. How are you and Sawamura?” Wakatoshi inclines his head. He had been told once that he was impolite for never doing so before on his old route. 

“You can still call me Suga! It’s only been a few months since we last saw each other! And we’re doing great!” Koushi’s voice sounds ever lighter when he mentions his family, as though there were a spring in it’s step (not that Wakatoshi noticed). “He’s thinking of opening a shop with Hajime for their carvings!”

“That is good. Surely it will have a lot of business with his and Iwaizumi Hajime’s talent.” Wakatoshi saw this as fact. Many people would travel from afar to purchase something from some of the nation's top carvers.

“Thanks Ushijima-san. Good luck with your new route!” Koushi waves as Wakatoshi leaves, and Wakatoshi attempts awkwardly raising his hand and Koushi’s smile becomes blinding.

Later that night, after sorting out his canvases, Wakatoshi once again wonders about his impulsive buy. Although he usually justifies anything he impulsively grabs, he can’t figure out why he chose that paint. 

Shrugging, he once again lays down, and once again sleep eludes him. Every time he closes his eyes, he finds that the first platter of blood, glittering like the finest jewels as it falls in a graceful arc, may as well be tattooed to his eyelids. Even though that would not work, because there would be no light to show him the tattoo even if it were possible. 

“It’s an expression, Wakatoshi.” Shirabu’s resigned sass echos in his head in much the same way Taichi’s had.

Sighing after a few hours of waiting for sleep to take him, Wakatoshi opens his eyes and pinches his eyebrows together. He is concerned for his health if he does not get enough sleep. Fixing his gaze on a canvas leaning unassumingly on the wall across from the cot he had set up, Wakatoshi considers that painting might help him sleep. 

Slipping out from under the blanket and pulling on his shoes, Wakatoshi lights a lamp and opens his trunk full of painting supplies. There is only one thing he could think to paint.

Wakatoshi lightly thumbs at the bristles of a medium sized brush, nodding in approval. It would do. Wakatoshi also grabs the Tobio paint that he had bought, understanding now that he it had caught his eye because it mirrored the blood that stained his sight every time he closed his eyes.

Taking out a pallet, Wakatoshi mixes the paint with white to create a few different tones and well as a pencil to outline the general draft. 

Dawn has come and gone by the time a red shock of hair bounds in to witness Wakatoshi put the final touches on the penciled outline.

Satori’s whistle makes Wakatoshi tense before he recognizes it. 

“Wow Wakatoshi-kun! That’s some detailed work, what’s it for?” Satori slings an arm around Wakatoshi’s shoulders as the question is asked.

Wakatoshi is careful not to dislodge it while he picks up a brush, “The scene was stuck in my head,” he explains, his tone as flat as ever.

“Wait you saw this?” Satori’s arm tightens around his shoulder.

Wakatoshi, not knowing what he would say and trying to focus back on his work, nods.

“Wow. Are you okay?” Satori spoke in the tone he usually does when he watches Wakatoshi paint, not distracting but not something Wakatoshi wants to ignore.

All things considered, Wakatoshi realizes that it’s a reasonable question. If Tsutomu had been hurt he would have asked the same thing. If Wakatoshi hadn’t accepted death as part of a natural cycle and observed the battle objectively, he would have had more mental strain. 

Instead, his remembrance of the battle was manifesting itself in every stroke of his brush. He says as much to Satori.

As Wakatoshi adds some shading he confesses, “Satori?”

“Yes?” Satori turns away from where he was stacking some canvas.

Wakatoshi paused awkwardly with the realization that they’ve been there for hours and the sun had long since set, “I did not think when I penciled it it would be so big.”

There is silence and Wakatoshi turns to see Satori grinning at him, “You goof Wakatoshi-kun!” Satori can’t seem to stop the laughter pouring out of him, gasping for breath every once in awhile. Laughing that much looks painful.

“Tendou are you okay?” Wakatoshi barely refrains from approaching in favor of filling in another section.

Satori wipes a tear from his face, “I’m fine. It’s just great to see you so inspired! Even if this,” he gestures to the battle that seemed to almost rise off the page before them, “is more gory than I thought your inspiration would be!”

Wakatoshi is unsure how to respond. After mulling over it a bit he settles on, “The people deserve closure.”

Satori hums and lays back on Wakatoshi’s cot, pulling out a book.

Dawn breaks a few hours later, illuminating the last slash of color swiped tiredly across Wakatoshi’s latest masterpiece.

“Excuse me, are you selling this?” The old woman look sad, but hopeful.

“Yes, I am, madame,” Wakatoshi bows, “Why do you want it?”

She smiles, a bittersweet thing, “My grandson died in that battle. May I buy it to commemorate the town?”

This, this is what pushed Wakatoshi to be a painter, “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I have a few ideas for this but unless people request it I'm kinda just to lazy/swamped to do them without reason if that makes sense?
> 
> Edit 12/10/2k16: SO I SUBMITTED THIS TO A CONTEST AT MY LOCAL LIBRARY AND: http://cheetahleopard.tumblr.com/image/154311417187 OHHHHHH MYYYYY GOOOSSSSHHHH
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I am indeed working on another fic in this and hope to have it done by christmas and let me tell you, world building? EXHAUSTING


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